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Be Holy as I am Holy
MORNA HOOKER
You may perhaps have been puzzled by the title of this book, and found yourself wondering what holiness and mission have in common. Holiness we associate with personal sanctity, and we symbolize it with haloes, suggesting that saints are separated from the rest of us – often, indeed, withdrawing from the world altogether. Mission, on the other hand, means going out into the world – getting involved with all its activities. Why, then, begin a study of mission by talking about holiness?
The answer is: because it is with the idea of holiness that the Old Testament begins its awareness of Israel’s mission to the world, and if we are to understand our own mission as Christians, then that is where we, too, must begin.
Israel’s call to be holy
‘Be holy as I am holy.’ What does the Old Testament mean by holiness? The instinct that led us to suppose that saints are separated from others was correct, since to be holy originally meant, simply, to be separated, set apart. Holiness, first and foremost, was what differentiated God from men and women. Nevertheless, in summoning Israel to be his people, God demanded that they should share his ‘otherness’. They must ‘consecrate’ themselves to him – make themselves holy, separate from other nations. We are not, however, talking about individuals, but about Israel, the whole nation. As John Wesley aptly expressed it, centuries later, biblical holiness is essentially social holiness: it concerns the whole community.1 The demand is set out in Leviticus 11.44–45:
I am the Lord your God; consecrate yourselves therefore, and be holy, for I am holy . . . For I am the Lord who brought you up from the land of Egypt, to be your God; you shall be holy, for I am holy.2
You will notice that what God demands is based on what God has already done – on what the theologians term ‘prevenient grace’. Yahweh has graciously chosen Israel as his special people, and her holiness depends on her relationship with him. She is to be holy as he is holy, to be like him. Holiness means living according to the revealed character of God. In Leviticus, ‘being holy’ is defined mainly in cultic terms. Israel is separated from other nations by rules about cleanliness. Later, however, the prophets interpreted holiness in what we would call ethical terms. God is ‘the Holy One of Israel’, and to speak of his holiness is to speak, in effect, of what he is. Since he himself is compassionate and just, what he requires of his people is, above all, justice and compassion for others. Those who are his people acknowledge Yahweh alone as God, and reflect his character as a righteous and loving God.
But why was Israel chosen as God’s people? What was the purpose of her call? There are two kinds of answer. The first concentrates on the relationship between God and Israel. She is the recipient of his grace, and must therefore serve him by her worship and in her manner of life. Although this answer rightly sees that God’s holiness demands purity on the part of his worshippers, and can lead to devotion and piety, it can also result in a community that is turned in upon itself and excludes outsiders. It takes the idea of separation from outsiders so seriously that it cuts them off. ‘Be holy’ is understood to mean ‘Keep aloof’. According to Deuteronomy, when Israel entered the Promised Land, God drove out the nations already there, and instructed his people to exterminate those who were delivered into their hands. They must not intermarry with other nations, lest they draw them away from serving Yahweh, their God. They must pull down their altars and burn their idols, since they, Israel, were ‘a people holy to the Lord’ (Deuteronomy 7.1–6).
We see a later example of this attitude in the exclusive policy adopted by Nehemiah and Ezra, who rigorously separated their community from other nations: they were God’s people – they alone – and they were concerned to keep their community pure. Later still, the members of the Dead Sea community at Qumran seem to have had a similar understanding of the meaning of holiness, since they endeavoured to keep themselves separate from anyone who was unholy.3 This was how the Pharisees – the name means ‘the separated ones’ – understood holiness, and how Paul had understood it before he became a Christian.4 One can depict this response diagramatically, by means of a straight line joining two dots. God has called us, his people, to be holy, but God’s grace apparently stops here, with us, the lucky recipients. The relationship between God and his people is seen as an exclusive one.
The alternative approach understood God’s purpose in choosing the Jews as extending beyond Israel to the other nations. Certainly God had separated them from other nations – but it was for a purpose, and this purpose, paradoxically, involved the other nations. This time, the relationship is triangular, involving God, Israel and the Gentiles, so our diagram now must be of a triangle instead of a straight line. It is adumbrated already in the call of Abraham, who is chosen by God to be the ancestor of a great nation. Nevertheless, God’s covenant with him includes the promise that he will be the source of blessing to all the nations of the earth.5
But it is the prophets who spell out the implications of what it meant to be God’s holy people – in particular the prophet who wrote some of the later chapters of Isaiah. He understood God’s call of Israel to be his people as a call to reveal him to the other nations. The basis of his understanding of Israel’s role was his conviction that Yahweh, the God of Israel, was the only true God, and the gods worshipped by other nations did not in fact exist. If this God – the Holy One of Israel6 – was the God of all the earth and all its peoples, should not they, too, be taught about him, and should they not worship and serve him? Israel’s task was to be a witness to God’s power and love – to be ‘a light to the nations’ (Isaiah 42.6) – since God’s purpose was that his salvation should ‘reach to the end of the earth’ (Isaiah 49.6). Even earlier, another prophet had prophesied that the day would come when all the nations would flock to Jerusalem to worship God and learn his ways.7 This idea was picked up by yet another prophet, who declared that on that day,
the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord,
to minister to him, to love the name of the Lord,
and to be his servants . . .
these I will bring to my holy mountain,
and make them joyful in my house of prayer . . .
for my house shall be called a house of prayer
for all peoples.
(Isaiah 56.6–7)
The prophet who spoke these words believed that God had chosen Israel as his people, and that her role was to reveal his glory to other nations.8
In what sense, then, is Israel a light to the nations? What form does her mission take? Another prophet who shared this vision of Israel’s call wrote the book of Jonah, a story that symbolizes Israel’s mission to other nations – and her reluctance to undertake the task given her. The prophet Jonah, after initially refusing God’s commission, and taking flight, is depicted as finally obeying God’s summons to go to Nineveh, where he proclaims the message entrusted to him – a message of coming judgement. When his words are effective, the people of Nineveh are – to Jonah’s great annoyance – saved.
Usually, however, the witness seems to be in deed rather than word. Isaiah 42 speaks of God’s Servant, who is probably to be identified with Israel, but if not, then the Servant is certainly the representative of Israel. The prophet describes how God’s Servant will establish justice on the earth. God has called him and given him
. . . as a covenant to the people,
a light to the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind,
to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.
(Isaiah 42.6–7)
On Sinai, God had called Israel to be his people and made a covenant with her. Now, Israel is herself a covenant – the means of binding together God and the nations of the world. Israel herself had been brought out of darkness and slavery in Egypt, and her task now is to assist in doing for others what has been done for her: to open blind eyes, release prisoners, and establish justice on the earth. In other words, Israel is called to act as God’s representative on earth. This will become a key element in the biblical understanding of God’s call.
God’s command to his people to ‘be holy as I am holy’ is a command to be like God, to represent who and what he is to the world. He is a loving God, just but merciful, who brings salvation and healing, and the nation’s task is to be and to do the same. This vision is a long way from the nationalism that we find in some books of the Old Testament, which arises when the command to be holy is interpreted as a command to keep aloof – the interpretation of the relationship between God and his people which we have suggested could be represented by a straight line between two fixed points. What the prophets were insisting was that God’s grace did not stop with Israel, but extended to the whole human race. Israel’s task was to reflect that grace: this is what it meant to act as God’s representatives on earth. This task had, according to the story in Genesis 1, originally been entrusted to Adam in the Garden of Eden, and at that time, according to Jewish legend, Adam – created in the image of God – reflected God’s glory.9 No wonder, then, that God’s command to his people was to ‘be holy as I am holy’ – in other words, to be like him. Israel was called to be what Adam had failed to be. The nation’s commission was to reveal God to his world – to be a light to the Gentiles, and so bring them to worship him.
What kind of God?
So what is God like? What kind of a God was Israel worshipping? According to Richard Dawkins, Israel’s God was an extremely nasty piece of work – cruel, unjust, unmerciful, and unreasonable in his demands.10 It is not a picture that I recognize. To be sure, there are passages – as we have already seen – which depict God as a triumphant war-lord, demanding the death of his enemies. They were written by men who understood the demand for holiness to mean the radical rooting out of anything that was not ‘holy’, as they understood that term. But if we turn to the scene in Exodus where God establishes his covenant with Israel, we find a very different picture. God reveals himself to Moses there as
a God merciful and gracious,
slow to anger,
and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness,
keeping steadfast love for the thousandth generation,
forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin.
(Exodus 34.6–7, NRSV)
What God demanded of Israel must reflect this. Not surprisingly, then, we find Micah declaring:
. . . what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?
(Micah 6.8, NRSV)
But for Christians, the question ‘What kind of God?’ should be easy to answer, since God has, we believe, revealed himself to us in the person of his Son. Nowhere is this spelt out more clearly than in the Gospel of John. ‘The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory’ (John 1.14) – seen, that is, what God is like. Here is John expressing the doctrine of incarnation – God becoming man.11 The true nature of God has been revealed in one who is truly human.12 It is a doctrine that lies at the heart of our faith, but all too often we do not take it seriously. Artists portray Jesus with a halo, to emphasize his otherness, his holiness, and in the process make him less than human. But the incarnation reminds us that God’s holiness is about who he is, and about what he reveals himself to be in the person of Jesus. He is not a God who stands apart, but a God who identifies himself with humanity, a God who gets involved with his creation.
‘The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.’ For John, this means that those who have seen Jesus have seen God, and so he depicts Jesus, on the night before his death, telling his disciples, ‘Whoever has seen me has seen the Father’ (John 14.9). This means, John explains, that the things Jesus says and does are the words and works of God (v. 10). What God says and does are in fact the same thing – as, indeed, the famous opening line of the Gospel reminds us, for when John claims that Jesus is the Logos – the Word – he is referring to a word that is not only spoken but which accomplishes what is said. As Genesis puts it: ‘God spoke, and it was so.’ It is not so strange, then, that those who believe in Jesus, whom they claim to be ‘the truth’ (John 14.6), are said, not only to believe the truth but to do it.13 Long before, the Psalmist had written:
Teach me your way, O Lord,
That I may walk in your truth.
(Psalm 86.11)
Now the way and the truth are revealed in Jesus, and his followers must ‘walk’ – that is, live – in accordance with what they see in him.
When I first arrived in Cambridge, many years ago, I inherited a lecture course entitled ‘The Theology and Ethics of the New Testament’, and found myself lecturing on that theme several times a week. Theology alone, you might have thought, was a big enough topic, needing all the time available, and ethics, too, could easily have filled all the slots allocated to me. But here I was, lecturing on theology and ethics, and I soon realized why. Theology and ethics belong together, and refuse to be separated. True, some people assume that religion is all about what they believe, and has nothing to do with everyday life. But theology and ethics, belief and action, belong together, and those who do not practise their faith in their daily lives have failed to see the implications of their beliefs. It is no surprise, then, to find Jesus challenging his disciples by asking them, ‘Why do you call me “Lord, Lord”, and do not do what I say?’ (Luke 6.46).
The link between theology and ethics is seen clearly in Jesus’ reply to the scribe who asked him which was the greatest commandment. The answer – a quotation from Deuteronomy – appears at first to be straightforward: ‘The Lord our God is the one Lord, and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’14 But Jesus doesn’t stop there! He goes on, this time quoting Leviticus: ‘The second is this, “You shall love your neighbour as yourself”’15 (Mark 12.28–34). Surely this is cheating! He was asked for one command, and he has given two. But the reason is clear. The second command is the corollary of the first, and the first cannot be separated from it.16 If you love God, you must love your neighbours, and Jesus maintained that ‘neighbours’ included Gentiles as well as Jews.17 As the author of 1 John later insisted, you cannot claim to love God if you hate others.18 Faith – our trust in God and our love for him – cannot be separated from ethics.
‘Justification by faith’, the watchword of the Reformation, has dominated Protestant interpretation of Pauline theology for centuries. Sadly, Luther’s stress on the antithesis between faith and works as a means of salvation had the unfortunate result that some later interpreters stressed faith to the exclusion of everything else. Personal belief was seen as all-important, and this led to an understanding of religion which concentrated on personal salvation and forgot that – in Paul’s words – salvation needed to be ‘worked out’ (Philippians 2.12) in one’s manner of life. Yet Paul is clear that faith is meant to lead to obedience.19 His mission, he tells the Romans, is ‘to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles’ (Romans 1.5).20 His letters demonstrate how important this obedience – holiness of life – is.
An example of this is seen in what may be Paul’s earliest letter, his first epistle to the Thessalonians. According to Acts, Paul’s attempt to preach the gospel in Thessalonica had been cut short because of opposition from his fellow Jews.21 Anxious about the small community of converts he had left behind, Paul sent Timothy to see how they were faring, and when Timothy brought news that their faith was strong, Paul wrote to them expressing his thankfulness.22 In his opening greeting he reminds the Thessalonians of what their conversion had meant. They had ‘turned to God from idols, to serve a living and true God’ (1 Thessalonians 1.9). In the last two chapters of the letter, he spells out something of what ‘serving a living and true God’ meant, and it can be summed up as personal holiness, and concern for one’s neighbour. Paul ends the letter with a prayer for the Thessalonian community:
May the God of peace sanctify you entirely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.
(1 Thessalonians 5.23)
God’s demand to his people had been that they should ‘Be holy as I am holy’. This command is addressed now to Christians – to those who, as Paul puts it, are ‘called to be saints’. They, like Israel before them, are called to be God’s representatives on earth – to bring salvation and healing, justice and peace. That is the task to which they have been appointed.
Years ago, when I was a member of a group preparing The Methodist Service Book (1975), and was working on the Intercessions, I remember being puzzled by the fact that in every Christian tradition the first prayer is always for the Church. Surely, I thought, we should be praying for everyone else first, and then for the Church! Was it not very inward-looking to begin with the Church? A colleague and I produced a draft reversing the usual order, but we were soon shouted down – though I seem to remember that the only reason offered us was ‘tradition’! Now, however, I understand the logic. The Church is Christ’s body, carrying on his work. We need to pray for the Church, in order that we may pray and work for others. The Church must be holy – God’s holy people – in order to witness to the world.
Becoming like Christ
For the Christian, the command to ‘be holy as I am holy’ is a command to be like Christ. Not surprisingly, it is in the letters of Paul that we find the fullest description of what that might mean in terms of everyday life, since Paul was concerned to spell out there what the gospel meant – not simply in matters of belief, but in questions of behaviour. As we have seen, the two belong together, and cannot be separated. For Paul, the reason is that those who respond to the gospel, and who are baptized into Christ, share his death and resurrection. They die to their old way of life, and are raised to a new one – a life that is lived ‘in Christ’.23 That is why they are now truly members of God’s people, and that is why Paul addresses them as ‘saints’, or ‘holy ones’, the term once used of Israel. The language he uses reminds us of that fundamental relationship between Christ and believers, and of the call to be holy, in a way that our modern use of the term ‘Christians’ does not.
Another way of expressing this is to say that those who are ‘in Christ’ are part of a new creation. According to Genesis, Adam had been created after the image of God, but those who belong to Christ have been transferred into a new creation,24 and they are being changed into the image of Christ25 – who is himself the true image of God.26 Look at Christ, and you will see what God is like; look at Christians, and what you should see is what Christ is like. For Paul, therefore, the Christian life was a matter of imitating Christ – or rather, of being conformed to Christ.27 And that is in fact a better way of putting it, since what we are talking about is not merely a matter of imitation – like copying the appearance of the latest celebrity – for it is not something that we can ourselves do, but rather is, for Paul, always the work of the Holy Spirit in the Christian.
If we want to see what this means, there is no better place to look than Paul’s letter to the Philippians. This brief letter has something of the nature of a manifesto. Paul is in prison, contemplating a possible death-sentence, and he shares with his friends in Philippi something of his understanding of the gospel, of what it means for their way of life, and of what it has meant for him, as the apostle of Christ. In other words, he sets out here the basis of his mission. Central to the letter is the famous passage in chapter 2 which is sometimes known as the Philippian ‘hymn’. Like a hymn – at least the best hymns – it expresses in a structured form something of the significance of the gospel. It tells how Christ,
who was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form, he humbled himself
and became obedient to death, even death on a cross.
Therefore God has highly exalted him,
and given him the name that is above every name,
That at the name of Jesus
every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
(Philippians 2.6–11)
Here is a summary of the gospel – of the events that made the Philippians what they are. One of its many interesting features is the way that it is introduced and rounded off. Paul is quoting this passage, not simply to remind the Philippians of the gospel, but to point out its relevance for their lives. Addressing those who are ‘in Christ’, he writes:
If there is, in Christ, any encouragement, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy . . . be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look to the interests of others, not to your own. Let the same mind be in you that is found in Christ Jesus.
(Philippians 2.1–5)
For many years, New Testament scholars have debated how best to translate those last few words. The problem is that there is no verb in the Greek. Literally, it reads ‘Think this among yourselves which also in Christ Jesus.’ So is Paul telling the Philippians that they should have ‘the mind that was in Christ Jesus’ – the mind that they see reflected in the way in which he behaved?28 Or is he talking about the mind which they, the members of his body, already possess, by virtue of the fact that they are ‘in Christ’? As so often, when confronted with an either/or, the answer may be ‘both’!29 The hymn tells us about what Christ himself did. But Paul’s appeal is based on the assumption that those who are ‘in Christ’ ought to share his mind, his attitudes, his love and concern for others. The Revised English Bible’s translation attempts to convey this ambiguity: ‘Take to heart among yourselves what you find in Christ Jesus.’
At the conclusion of the hymn, he writes, ‘therefore, my beloved, . . . work out your own salvation’ (Philippians 2.12). Working out their salvation clearly means living out the gospel in their lives – not just as individuals, but as a community. It means ‘being in full accord and of one mind’, and ‘doing nothing from selfish ambition or conceit’. But this is not something they do in their own strength, for it is in fact God, Paul reminds them, who is at work in them (v. 13). Nor, indeed, is it simply a matter of their own salvation, since the result will be that they will shine like stars in a dark world – a light to others (v. 15).30
Paul’s mission
Philippians was written by Paul towards the end of his ministry, when he was facing probable death, to Christians who had, he said, shared with him in the gospel from the day they had heard it.31 Though he may well be referring to the financial support which they have given him,32 he is surely thinking also of their assistance in spreading the gospel. In his letter, Paul not only reminds the Philippians of the gospel and its relevance for their lives, but reminds them, too, of his own ministry, which has been modelled on Christ’s self-giving;33 for this reason he urges them to imitate him.34 His purpose seems to be to ensure that his understanding of the gospel, and of the Christian community’s ministry, is passed on even after his death.35
Paul’s call to others to imitate him is based on the fact that he is himself the imitator of Christ.36 For the sake of the gospel, he has endured hunger, thirst, beatings, homelessness, slander, persecution.37 He is, he tells the Corinthians, ‘always carrying in the body the death of Jesus . . . always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake’. And so, he concludes, ‘death is at work in us, but life in you’ (2 Corinthians 4.10–12). Paul’s understanding of his apostolic role is that of conformity to the death and resurrection of Christ – and remarkably, he becomes a conveyor of the salvation which comes from Christ: ‘death is at work in us, but life in you’. But this is the pattern, not for apostles alone, but for all Christian disciples. Paul himself, he tells the Corinthians, has identified himself with Jew and Gentile, with those under the law and those outside the law, has become weak for the sake of the weak, has become all things in turn to all people, for the sake of the gospel.38 And they are to imitate him!
It is clear, then, that the gospel is spread, not simply by word of mouth, but by actions. Writing to the Thessalonians, Paul reminds them how the message of the gospel had come to them, ‘not in word only, but also in power’ (1 Thessalonians 1.5), because they had seen what kind of people the apostles were – for their sake. It was the actions of the apostles, as much as their message, which had impressed the Thessalonians. And they, in turn, became imitators of Paul and of the Lord, and so became an example to others, with the result that the word of the Lord rang out throughout the whole region.
One of the best known of all New Testament stories is that of Paul’s conversion on the Damascus Road. In fact, ‘conversion’ may not be the best term for what happened, since it suggests that Paul was converted from one religion to another, whereas, of course, he continued to worship the same God – the God who, he now believed, had revealed himself in the death and resurrection of Christ.39 Luke gets so excited by the story that he tells it – at some considerable length – three times over,40 and in each version of the story he tells us that Paul was called to take the gospel to the Gentiles. Paul himself does not recount the story of the Damascus Road, but in one brief reference to what happened, he recalls the fact that the time came when, as he puts it:
God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son in me, so that I might proclaim him among the Gentiles.
(Galatians 1.15–16)
The story, which Luke tells at length, is here contracted to one sentence, and you will have noticed that Paul’s account concentrates on the purpose of his call – to preach to the Gentiles. But what exactly does he say? ‘God . . . was pleased to reveal his Son in me.’ Most translators understand Paul to be saying that God was pleased to reveal his Son to him, but I suspect that they do so because that is what they think Paul ought to have written. Is Paul not describing the revelation of Christ which was given to him on the Damascus Road? The problem is that the Greek preposition that Paul uses – the word en – normally means ‘in’. Was that perhaps what Paul meant? If not, why did he use en, rather than the normal Greek construction?
Let us suppose that what Paul intended to say was, indeed, that God was pleased to reveal his Son in him, in order that he might proclaim him among the Gentiles. If we are right in doing so, then Paul understood himself to have been commissioned, not simply to preach the gospel, but to live it. From that moment the Son of God had, as it were, taken over his life.41 Indeed, it would seem that Paul believed that it was necessary for him to live the gospel in order to preach it: God revealed his Son in him, in order that he might proclaim him. Christ was to be revealed in him – through his words and actions, his behaviour and his choice of missionary strategy. He can even speak of the fact that ‘the marks of Christ’ are ‘branded’ on his body (Galatians 6.17). No wonder, then, that he stresses again and again that what he has done is to try to live in conformity to the gospel.
Paul’s so-called ‘conversion’ was certainly a dramatic turning-point in his life. From now on he was convinced that Jesus was the Messiah and the Son of God, and that God had raised him from the dead. But his ‘conversion’ can be seen, I suggest, not as a move to a new religion, but rather as a change from one understanding of ‘holiness’ to another.42 As a Jew, Paul had been a Pharisee – a term which means ‘separated’. Pharisees took the call to be holy seriously, and for Paul, holiness had meant personal piety: living strictly according to the law, avoiding contamination, preserving a relationship with God. This was the ‘straight line’ model of holiness, linking the holy people with their holy God. But with his call to take the gospel to Gentiles, this understanding of holiness had been destroyed. ‘Be holy as I am holy’ now meant ‘be what I have revealed myself to be in the person of Jesus Christ, who loved you and gave himself up for you’. Now Paul realized that God’s holy people were called, not to keep God to themselves, but to take him out into the world, to offer the gospel to the nations, to share their knowledge of a loving and compassionate God. Paul’s understanding of holiness has become triangular. It means love of God and neighbour – and neighbours are not just his fellow Jews, but the Gentiles.
From the history of both the nation, Israel, and the individual, Paul, we see that God’s call to belong to him involves the call to mission. This kind of God cannot be kept to ourselves. Mission is not an optional extra, but is part of a Christian’s DNA. Being holy means being like God – the God who, John tells us, loved the world to such an extent that he gave his only Son, so that none should perish (John 3.16). But this mission cannot be limited to the words of preachers or even to personal testimony. The call from God is to be holy – and for Christians, that means having the mind of Christ, and becoming like him. It means embodying the gospel, both as individuals and as a community. Mission is not a task to be assigned to a few chosen representatives, but a task for the whole Church, since the Church, as the body of Christ in the world, represents to the world what Christ is. What kind of image of Christ are we – as a community – offering to those among whom we live and work?
Notes
1. Preface to 1739 Hymns and Sacred Poems, in John Wesley, Works, Thomas Jackson (ed.), 1829–31, Vol. XIV, p. 321.
2. Similarly Leviticus 19.2; 20.26; cf. Exodus 19.6; 22.31; Deuteronomy 7.6.
3. See in particular IQS – The Community Rule.
4. See Philippians 3.4–6.
5. Genesis 12.3; 18.18.
6. Isaiah 43.3, 14; 45.11; 47.4; 48.17; 49.7.
7. Isaiah 2.2–4 = Micah 4.1–3; cf. Isaiah 55.5.
8. Isaiah 55.5; 60.1–3.
9. This is referred to in various Jewish writings, for example in Apoc. Moses (the Greek version of the Life of Adam and Eve) 20–1. By sinning, Adam lost his likeness to God. But in time the hope arose that one day this likeness would be restored, and men and women would once again reflect God’s glory. We find this hope expressed in Daniel 12.3 and 2 Corinthians 3.18. According to Exodus 34.29–35, Moses’ face shone with the reflected glory of God after speaking to God on Mount Sinai.
10. See, e.g., The God Delusion, London: Transworld Publishers, 2006, pp. 268–83
11. Cf. 1 John 1.1–3.
12. Cf. Galatians 4.4; Philippians 2.6–8; Hebrews 1.1–4; 2.5–18.
13. John 3.21. The Greek reads literally ‘doing the truth’. Cf. also 1 John 1.6.
14. Deuteronomy 6.5.
15. Leviticus 19.18.
16. To be sure, Paul quotes the ‘second’ command, saying that it contains ‘the whole law’, in Galatians 5.14, and makes no reference to the ‘first’; cf. also Romans 13.9–10. Love for God is apparently taken for granted. But this is because love for one’s neighbours is the corollary which needs to be spelt out.
17. Luke 10.25–37.
18. 1 John 4.20.
19. For the idea that Christians will have to give an account of their actions on the Day of Judgement, see for example 1 Corinthians 3.13–15; 2 Corinthians 5.10.
20. Cf. Romans 15.15–19.
21. Acts 17.1–9.
22. 1 Thessalonians 3.1–13.
23. See Romans 6.
24. 2 Corinthians 5.17.
25. 2 Corinthians 3.18.
26. 2 Corinthians 4.4.
27. Paul uses Greek words meaning ‘conformed’ in relation to the goal of Christian life in Romans 8.29; Philippians 3.10, 21.
28. This is the way in which the Authorized Version understood it: ‘Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.’
29. I have discussed this issue in ‘Philippians 2.6–11’ in E. Earle Ellis and Erich Grässer (eds), Jesus und Paulus, Festschrift für Georg Kümmel zum 70. Geburtstag, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978, pp. 151–64; reprinted in From Adam to Christ: Essays on Paul, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990, pp. 88–100.
30. Some commentators believe that Paul is here simply contrasting light with darkness. But echoes of Daniel 12.3, Isaiah 42.6 and 49.6 suggest that he thinks of the Philippians as a source of illumination to others.
31. Philippians 1.5.
32. Philippians 4.15–18.
33. Philippians 3.4–11.
34. Philippians 3.17.
35. I have discussed Paul’s purpose in writing the letter in Philippians: ‘Phantom Opponents and the Real Source of Conflict’ in Ismo Dunderberg, Christopher Tuckett and Kari Syreeni (eds), Fair Play: Diversity and Conflicts in Early Christianity, Essays in Honour of Heikki Räisänen, Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2001, pp. 377–95.
36. 1 Corinthians 11.1.
37. 1 Corinthians 4.11–12.
38. 1 Corinthians 9.19–23.
39. The term ‘conversion’ suggests that Christianity was a separate religion, whereas at the time that Paul became a Christian, it was still a sect within Judaism. Indeed, the terms ‘Christian’ and ‘Christianity’ had not yet been coined. Unfortunately the notion that Paul was ‘converted’ contributed to the later belief that Judaism and Christianity were opposed.
40. Acts 9.1–19; 22.6–21; 26.12–18.
41. Cf. Galatians 2.20.
42. There is an interesting parallel here between Paul and John Wesley, whose ‘conversion’ is celebrated every year by Methodists – just as Paul’s so-called ‘conversion’ is celebrated by the Church at large. Like Paul, however, Wesley did not ‘convert’ from one religion to another, nor did he abandon an immoral life for an upright one. Both men had pursued personal holiness before their ‘conversions’.
